


history and broad daylight have become one

by theprincesjester



Series: history and broad daylight have become one [1]
Category: Insidious (Movies), Saw (Movies)
Genre: M/M, also, also gavin's kind of a dick, also warning for suicide mentions in reference to larry, and donovan's an actual character that exists somewhere i promise, at least not for a bit, because of what happened with him, because this is something i needed in my life, elise dies around chapter 6 so warning there, get ready for some really horrible takes at some point, he's from a short film i think??, i might also do some adam/lawrence later on, i only watched the part with him in it, i'll make sure to give warnings in the notes before the chapters (possible hospital stuff), i'm going to do my best to not let anyone we actually like die, larry (from the bye bye man) is mentioned, slut-shaming victor hugo i guess, so i can promise Some happiness, specs and lawrence friendship, there are actually chapters where i've gone "okay you need to let these characters be Happy", tucker and adam friendship, we're not going to go into Too Much Detail with him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincesjester/pseuds/theprincesjester
Summary: years after their uncle died, specs and adam have lost contact. it's not until adam goes missing that they find each other again, and end up having to figure out the truth behind what happened to their uncle.
Relationships: Elise Rainier & Specs (Insidious), Elise Rainier & Tucker (Insidious), Specs/Tucker (Insidious)
Series: history and broad daylight have become one [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576267
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. 1- Boxes of Juice and Other Misadventures

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter isn't as happy as the title suggests, but i promise that there will be Some happiness in here

Specs could remember running from school one day, although, at that time, he wasn’t yet known as Specs. 

He had almost ran home but decided against it; he couldn’t imagine his mom would take too kindly to him running home early in such a manner. Neither would his father. It was a conversation that, even at a young age, he couldn’t imagine going well. 

He found himself running until he was on his uncle’s porch, starting to calm down but still with tears in his eyes and a nose that was starting to run. He hesitated before knocking on the door, rubbing his eyes and sniffling while he waited. 

“Hello?” it was his uncle, a welcome face in this moment. A face he couldn’t even bring himself to look into. “Steven? Are you alright? What happened?” the taller man crouched down to the child’s level as he sniffed again. He reached to the child and pulled him closer, gently hugging him and picking him up when Steven hugged back. He carried his nephew into the house, sitting on the couch with him. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” 

Specs could remember shaking his head, hugging his uncle tighter. 

That had been before Larry had… 

They said he had gone crazy, somehow. That was what they had been told, Steven and Adam, David, Donovan, and Gavin. Uncle Larry had been perfectly fine one day and crazy the next. He had disappeared. 

When they got older, they all learned about what he had done--he had lost it, shouting something about “don’t say it, don’t think it!” and killing at least two other people before killing himself, as well. 

Larry had always been a good man, so no one could figure out why he had spun out of control like that. 

Now, Specs had wished he had taken the drink. Hell, he wished he had never run from school that day. 

But what was done was done. He couldn’t go back and stop it from happening. 

When he was in middle school, Steven was taken to a therapist and diagnosed with a variety of issues. The therapist said the anxiety likely came from the loss of people he cared about, among other things. Steven didn’t disagree. 

Sometimes, the thoughts of his uncle still haunted him. He didn’t understand what had happened or why, not completely. Maybe that was what started it all--he wanted to know why his uncle had died, why it had to be  _ him _ . 

Gavin had always called him a dumbass, saying that he needed to “leave the fucking story alone and just face the facts”. 

Adam had just shrugged, David figuring that it was alright as long as Specs didn’t end up like Larry had. 

And when Specs had killed Ted… he could only imagine what his family would have said. He could imagine Adam rolling his eyes, he wouldn’t have believed that Specs could do such a thing. Donovan would’ve likely shrugged and said it sounded legit, not questioning it. Gavin would’ve probably been a pain in the ass about it. 

Gavin hadn’t always been like that, but as he grew older… 

No one had heard from him since he had disappeared, sometime around the time he had gone off to college. Or something like that. Specs hadn’t paid much attention; he hadn’t particularly cared enough for Gavin at that point to. 

When it had finally hit Specs, what he had done, the fact that he had killed another human being (even if it had been self defense. That was what he had to remind himself, what Elise and Tucker made sure he remembered if he ever thought about it) just like his late uncle. 

Maybe Gavin had been right. Maybe it was all just coursing through Specs’ veins, the capacity for an evil he didn’t even want to have. 

But that was part of the story that he considered “After”. After meeting Elise. After he had reached a certain level of maturity and after he found a new family. 

And he had almost gone and fucked it all up, killing someone like that. Tucker and Elise hadn’t seemed too upset with him, though… 

He hadn’t always been called Specs, either. That was a nickname earned when he had started wearing glasses sometime in middle school. Adam had been the one to decide that he needed some nickname--originally, Adam had tried out a number of nicknames, none of which really stuck. 

It had been for the better. 

That was in the “ **_Before_ ** ”.  **_Before_ ** he met Elise and Tucker.  **_Before_ ** he felt he had a true purpose. 

The entire family was fucked up. That was the only thing they could all be one hundred percent certain of. 

The last Specs had heard, there was a rumour that Gavin had died. Falled to his death, someone had said. 

He wasn’t completely sure if it was true or not. He found it best not to question it. 

_ After  _ he had met Tucker.  _ Before  _ Elise. 

They all ended up going their separate ways, just barely keeping in touch and talking with each other. It was fine like that, for them, it was what they had grown used to. 

Another  **_before_ ** . 

And then Specs ended up here. College was certainly an experience for him. 

He found himself taking the ghost thing… perhaps more seriously than most thought he should. That was okay; he was willing to prove it to them, if he had to. 

And that was how he had met Tucker. It had been a happy accident, almost. They had just happened to cross paths at the same time. 

And now… 

“Can you carry this box?” Tucker held it out to him, smiling, just a little bit. He seemed to get some amusement from this, for some unknown reason. 

“I can,” Specs accepted it, carrying it into the house and to the garage. He was vaguely offended by the question, which was probably why it had been asked. They were almost done with the task at hand, which was getting the rest of Tucker’s stuff inside the house. 

“So you are capable of carrying more than your ego,” 

Specs took a deep breath. He knew his newfound almost-friend (he barely wanted to call him that, yet here they were, roommates, moving Tucker into Specs’ house) was only doing it to get a rise out of him, and yet… 

The urge to fight back was strong. Specs didn’t want to go down without at least trying. 

And… 

He couldn’t think of a witty response, so he just shook his head. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” 

“Whatever.” 

It’s a memory he holds close to himself, one he doesn’t want to forget. It’s a special one; it’s one of change. One that was before, but after. A time in his life when things seemed to be looking like it would get better. 

It’s a memory he tries to replay while sitting by himself, trying to block out the thoughts of what he had just done, and  _ oh god, I’m just like my uncle, I just killed a man. Maybe… No, he’s definitely dead. There’s not… Oh god. I’m a murderer _ . 

The words echo in his mind as he looks around numbly, barely registering the feeling of the bricks under him anymore. 

This was all a mistake, and yet he goes back. 

And now, perhaps it’s time to go way back, before any of this had started. 

  
  
  


It’s dark. That’s the first thing that registers in his mind: how dark it is. And hot. 

He’s too scared to completely leave the safety of the blanket on his bed, but he pokes his head out. 

“Adam?” he calls. The sound of breathing is all that answers him. He doesn’t want to get out of bed, fear keeping him pinned down, and the realisation that no one would take him seriously only solidifying this. His parents would say he’s being ridiculous, and logically, he knows they’re right. 

But part of him is aware of the breathing coming from the doorway. He desperately hopes it’s some kind of joke, or that maybe it’s only Adam, and he’s convinced himself it’s coming from the door. He can barely move his head, not wanting to in case something happens. 

There’s a shadow there. He tries to rationalise--it’s not unreasonable for there to be a shadow in a lit doorway. The hallway light had been left on for  _ him _ , because he had  _ begged _ , and now he was scaring himself with  _ that _ , too. 

But then it waved. 

He was as still as he could possibly be, not wanting to acknowledge whatever the presence was, tensing when he saw it move as if it was walking away. 

His parents would say this was just his overactive imagination, at it again. He had convinced himself that ghosts were real, and surely it was a phase he would grow out of. 

Adam didn’t seem to get too much enjoyment from watching his brother live in terror, almost fighting against their parents when they said he was being ridiculous. He had failed. 

He had started having nightmares sometime before that. They were enough to make him see how late he could stay up, reading Poe and Stephen King and Orwell and countless others. He took up writing, in an attempt to see if it would help. 

When his parents had found out what exactly the contents of his notebooks contained… 

He reached for the godforsaken thing after the figure had left, moving so slowly that it seemed as if he was still. He hid the pen under his blanket as he clicked it open, scribbling his newest ideas down and pausing occasionally to read over what he had written. Sloppy sketches lined the margins, both signs of his nervous energy and the fear gripping him. 

This was a before, all its own: Before his uncle died. He was about seven, a child on summer break. One that had so much trust in one man to always be there when he needed. 

He looked around cautiously before reaching for the walkie-talkie-esque object his uncle had given him, trusting that the other man was still awake. He knew of his uncle’s own sleep issues, and had called him before so they could talk. He found comfort in those moments, feeling safe, even if it was just for a bit. 

“Uncle Larry?” he pressed the button to send the message, so much faith in the idea that he would be awake. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” his uncle’s voice answered through the receiver. 

“I am, I can’t sleep,” 

“Are you alright?” 

“I think so. I saw someone, but… ‘m pretty sure it was just my imagination,” 

Larry froze, not wanting to think about what it could mean. 

By this time, Larry had also started keeping certain things… more secretive. He had been more tense than most had seen him be in a while, and this was because of his discovery. He had started reminding himself not to talk about… something. They weren’t sure what it was. 

He was fairly sure he could make a guess as to what had visited his nephew that night, a way of taunting him in a way that he could barely react to. He hated it. 

“Uncle Larry? Did you fall asleep?” 

Steven doubted he had, but he was a concerned child. 

“No, no, I’m still here. You’re going to be okay, okay?” 

“Mhm. Adam’s asleep,” 

“Okay. You’re safe, I promise you. I’m going to go visit you later, does that sound good?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Okay.” 

The next day, Larry was there, as promised. Steven ran to him when he walked through the door, hugging him tightly. 

Larry was glad that none of them seemed to be harmed in a noticeable way. He smiled at Adam when he saw him, the younger boy waving, excited. 

“Uncle Larry! Guess what!” 

“Hm?” 

“Look!” Adam held up a little camera, beaming. Larry nodded.

“That’s really neat!” 

“Yeah! Wanna see some of the pictures I took?” 

Larry had nodded, and that was the start of… something, for Adam. It wasn’t necessarily something that would be classified as a “Beginning”, at least… not for Specs, and yet, at the same time it was. It was that very moment that started a whole chain of events that-- 

Steven and Adam had dragged Larry outside, the children excited, Adam not even noticing the way Larry seemed to look behind himself, the way he kept glancing around as if trying to make sure nothing was coming. 

Steven frowned the third time it happened. 


	2. Contacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specs gets contacts for the sole purpose of fucking with Tucker. 
> 
> Specs and Tucker move in with Elise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find my tumblr [here](https://weagreedon-unicorn.tumblr.com) if you want to scream about any of these boys with me (or ask what exactly is going on here, i can Try to give an explanation for some of the stuff and i think i might have messed up the timeline some but it's Fine)
> 
> i also have reason to believe i've been reading too much victor hugo. it'll work out okay, though

“Ah, shit,” Specs muttered, watching dejectedly as the contact fell out of his eye again. He let himself sag against the wall, sighing before swiping it off of his cheek and throwing it away. 

Really, he didn’t plan on using them too terribly often--really, he had only gotten them with the intention to fuck around with Tucker.

So ultimately, not… rationing them wasn’t a problem. He had opted for the temporary, one-day use ones, figuring that they were likely the best to go with for his intended purpose. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, eyes barely focusing because of the one eye that could see clearly and the one that couldn’t. 

“Well, fuck me, I guess,” he shook his head, laughing a little. “This is not going as planned,” 

He considered his options for a moment. He could just call it quits and take the one contact he had gotten in out, or… he could try to shove his finger in his eye again. 

Specs opted for the second, grabbing the pack he had gotten and breaking one of the individual holders off, carefully opening it and fishing the contact out. 

“Y’know, I actually kind of hate this,” he spoke to an empty bathroom. He eventually got that contact into his eye as well, squeezing his eye shut as it began to water in almost protest of the thin film of plastic that was now inside of it. After a moment, he opened both of his eyes, blinking a couple times and looking around. “Woah,” 

He jumped off of the counter, discarding the cases the contacts had come in and unlocking the door. He almost raised a hand to his face to push his glasses up before remembering that they weren’t on his face, that he had left them on his nightstand, and almost felt… guilty. 

For what, he wasn’t sure. It just felt strange to him, to not wear his glasses, and especially to see without them on his face. He shrugged it off, though, trying to push the thought out of his mind as he made his way to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal, checking the time as he did so. 

Once he finished his breakfast, he set out another bowl and the cereal he was almost positive Tucker would choose (however, there was a chance that because Specs had set it out, Tucker would go for something else) and went to the couch, turning on some hyper-realistic “ghost hunting” show to watch while he waited for his friend to wake up. 

After a certain point, he figured he was just watching the show for amusement and not to actually watch it. He found himself rolling his eyes and almost laughing, knowing that the show was horribly inaccurate, and almost considered sending an email to whoever was producing the godforsaken show to tell them just that. 

After very little consideration, he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and began writing, scribbling down criticisms and sketching in the margins. He looks up when the channel gets changed, half-heartedly rolling his eyes when he sees Tucker had changed it to some Monty Python movie. 

“You know you get--woah.” Tucker stopped when he saw Specs, putting his bowl of cereal on the coffee table and staring at him. “What the fuck?” 

“‘Good morning, Specs. How did you sleep?’ Oh, I slept fine, thank you--” Tucker decided to ignore the blatant lie at the end--they both knew that neither of them had gotten much sleep last night. 

Mario Kart never sleeps. And neither does competition. 

“Can I even legally call you Specs now?” 

Specs laughed, Tucker still looking a little scandalised at the sight of him without glasses. “I mean, I don’t plan on making the no-glasses thing permanent,” 

Tucker nodded. “You could if you wanted to, but… please, for the sake of literally everyone, please do not. It takes away from your nickname and… I dunno. I guess I’m just used to you with two black boxes around your eyes,” 

“I am too, don’t worry. I’m also not a huge fan of shoving my finger in my eye, I already lost one contact today,” 

“How many did you get?” 

“I got the single-use ones. I thought they’d come in handy for something, like if I have to wear goggles or something,” 

“We’ll just make sure you never have to wear goggles, then,” 

With that last remark, Tucker started eating his breakfast, stealing glances at Specs every now and again. 

When the doorbell rang, it was Specs that answered it, smiling and hugging Elise after she had walked through the door. 

“Elise is here,” he yelled at Tucker, then softened his voice when he turned to her. “How are you?” 

She laughed. “I’m doing well, thank you. What happened to your glasses?” 

“Traded them for a piece of plastic in his eyes,” Tucker answered for him as he pulled Elise into a hug. 

“Not really. I mean, these are just going to be temporary, really, I--” 

“You know, they could be helpful, depending on what’s happening, there are situations in which being easily blinded by having them smacked off of your face is less than ideal,” 

Specs gave up. 

The two led her back to the living room, where she sat in the chair, Specs and Tucker sitting back on the couch. 

“How’s packing going?” Elise was talking about the invitation she had extended to her new colleagues for them to go and live with her, something that they had both agreed to very quickly. 

Specs nodded. “We’ve got most of it done. I have no bed,” he almost laughed. Tucker snorted from his side of the couch before turning his attention back to his interrupted breakfast. 

Elise nodded, looking around at the boxes. “We can try to move some stuff over today, if you’d like,” 

“That sounds like a good idea, thanks,” Specs answered for both of them, yawning. 

“And then you can go to bed early tonight,” 

“...wh--” 

“Steven, you need to sleep. So do you, Tucker,” she almost glared at the two of them, already more concerned for both boys than she expected to be. 

“We do sleep,” Tucker finally spoke up. “We just had a rough night last night,” 

Elise nodded. That was something she definitely understood. 

They sat in almost-silence, all watching the movie as Tucker finished his cereal, before Specs stood and went to his room to get the boxes that contained most of his belongings. 

Some time later, they were moving most of items in the house out of Steven and Tucker’s and into Elise’s. There’s not too much to say about the process other than that Specs and Tucker spent more than enough time arguing, Elise telling them to stop, but it didn’t take too terribly long for everything to get moved. 

And now we must pause and consider what the fuck they’re going to do about the house, because apparently no one else thought about that. Or something. 

It was definitely the last thought Specs and Tucker wanted to have, and Elise didn’t spend too much time on it, because of the move. 

Someone should’ve mentioned planning things out to most of them. 

But that hardly matters; they were all happy, in a state of near-exuberance as they considered how to go about dinner, the first they would all be having while living under the same roof. 

“I vote spaghetti,” was Tucker’s vote. Specs had shrugged. 

“I’m good with macaroni,” 

“You’re allowed to agree,” 

“Boys,” Elise interrupted what was likely going to become what they claimed “wasn’t an argument”. 

“...okay,” Specs shrugged. “I’m fine with anything,” 

“We could order pizza,” Tucker tried, figuring that would be easier. Specs opened his mouth then closed it when Elise gave him a look. 

He sighed, standing a stretching. “I think I’m going to go to my room, just shout when the pizza’s here. Tucker, you already know what I want,” 

And with that, he retreated to the room he had been given, his beat up copy of Les Miserables tucked under his arm. Tucker shook his head. 

“Damn book makes him so mad, but he keeps reading it,” 

“Maybe he likes it?” 

“You should hear him talk about it sometime. I don’t doubt he likes the plot, but dear God, when he’s not at a part that interests him…” 

“In his defense, Victor Hugo did have a habit of… going on long tangents,” 

“He likes to use the term ‘Vicky doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up about this thing and now I’m reading over forty pages on the stupid fucking battle of Waterloo’. It’s almost painful,” 

Elise nodded sympathetically. “Has he tried an abridged version?” 

“When I suggested it, he looked at me like I had suggested we try to murder a kitten and left the room,” 

She nodded again. 

“He read The Phantom of the Opera not too long ago, too. We watched the movie, it was okay. When he read 1984… dear god. I’m glad that’s over,” 

Almost as if on cue, Specs poked his head out of the room and shouted, “Did you say something about 1984?” 

“I take it he’s still not over that one,” Elise smiled. 

“I don’t think anyone is, really, but no. He’s not,” Tucker sighed, before shouting back, “It’s fine, Specs! I was just telling her about your books,” 

Specs didn’t respond, which Tucker and Elise both took to mean that he understood. Or something. 

“Do you want me to order the pizza?” Tucker eventually asked.

“You can, yes, please, thank you,” 

So Tucker did, ordering two larges, figuring that would be enough. Once it arrived, he shouted for Specs, who shouted back that he’d be “just a minute” (which was actually ten minutes, but Elise and Tucker both chose not to comment on it after he came out very agitated and muttering something about “Fucking Victor Hugo needs to shut the fuck up for once”). 

He glowered as he sat in silence, eating his pizza. 

“Are you alright?” Elise eventually asked. Specs looked up. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he shrugged. 

“What’d Victor Hugo do now?” Tucker was only half-teasing. 

“The convent,” 

Tucker nodded in sympathy. “Good luck,” 

Specs shrugged. “Asshole goes on for so long about this convent, I’m seriously considering skipping it, but…” 

“I think I might know of something that could help put you in a better mood. Do you have your laptop?” Elise turned to look at Specs. 

“Oh, yeah, I do. I can go get it, if you want,” 

She nodded. 

“Okay, if might be a minute, I’m going to go put my glasses on,” 

“ _ Finally _ ,” Tucker muttered. 

Specs returned not too much later with his glasses on and his laptop under his arm, which he placed on the table and turned on. 

A quick glance showed that there was paint all over the part of the laptop that wasn’t the screen or the keyboard, from his habit of anxiety-painting. He drummed his fingers on the paint as he waited for it to load, typing in his password when it finally came up. 

“Can you look over the footage from the Brenner’s case for me?” 

“Oh, yeah! Sure, I can do that,” he nodded. 

None of them had any idea that it would be another almost all-nighter for him and Tucker. 

Or what the next day would bring. 


	3. Murder, Murder, In The Night Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a ghost hunt and a murder, and Tucker threatens to get Specs an emotional support cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here](https://weagreedon-unicorn.tumblr.com) if you want to scream about any of these characters with me 
> 
> and also, fair warning, i have no idea how consistent the update schedule with this will be, but i do plan on completing it

_ Sometimes _ , Specs thought,  _ I really fucking hate my job _ . 

He had gone into the paranormal business for many reasons, one of them being that he didn’t have to worry about how socially awkward he could be. And yet here he was, now alone and fucking running for his life, a man with a gun chasing him, on a job that was more people-centric than he really wanted it to be. 

He cared a lot, yes. It was almost a problem. He cared for people, without a doubt. 

He also… found them difficult to understand, at times. Maybe it was because of everything that had happened. Maybe it was just an anxiety thing. He wasn’t sure. 

And it didn’t really… bother him, too much, that his life was in danger. Obviously, it did a little, because peril does that, but… at the same time, he had almost gotten used to it. Having his life threatened was on his list of top five things he expected for his job. 

But to have it threatened by another, living breathing person, who was, for lack of a better term, a complete shithead? 

Not the first way he wanted to spend his Monday morning. Or any morning, really. 

Or night. 

See, the point is that the entire situation was less than ideal, made even less so when, in self defense, he had dropped the case on the guy’s head. 

And then it was all a blur. He was aware of Elise and Tucker both relieved to see he was okay and relatively unharmed, and he had only been able to nod, letting himself be led outside. 

It felt… static-y. That was the only way he could think to describe it. His thoughts were moving so quickly and yet at the same time only creeping by. 

At some point, they turned to his family, for some unknown reason. He could only imagine what they would’ve thought. Adam probably wouldn’t have believed it. Donovan… might have taken it? Same for David. Without a doubt, Gavin would’ve been a dick about it. 

And then Larry. Specs almost let himself cry as the thought flashed past but pushed it down, trying to ground himself. There was no use in dwelling in the past like that. 

And yet, all he could think was  _ Oh God. I’m just like him, I just killed someone. I’m a murderer.  _

He barely registers the bricks under him, now, and he’s vaguely surprised he’s even standing, still. 

Later on, he’s very proud of himself for not doing that thing where he faints and ends up scaring more people than is necessary, but in the moment, he’s, honestly, freaked the fuck out. 

Then he considers the people he had lost contact with. They were his family, and really, he hadn’t particularly  _ disliked  _ Adam, David, or Donovan. It had just kind of… happened. 

And to be fair, they hadn’t really tried to contact him much, either. At least, not that he knew of.

_ Probably got busy with life _ , he thought, and he almost laughed. Thinking about them helped, a little. It took his mind off of the darker thoughts that were threatening to spill through. 

A touch to his shoulder returned him to when and where he was. It was only Elise; she gave him a small smile. 

“You did what you had to. And remember, sometimes the real monsters are living,” 

He had nodded numbly.  _ Processing things properly is still out, then _ , he thought. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it, nodding again. He couldn’t make himself say anything. 

Then it was Tucker, coming up behind him and slinging his arm over his shoulders. 

“It’s alright. Jackass kind of deserved it,” he muttered, close enough to Specs’ ear that he was able to hear it. Specs barely gave a small smile, just slightly moving his shoulders in a shrug while Elise and Tucker led him back to the car. 

Tucker nodded, apparently satisfied with that reaction, and opened the front door for him, letting him ride in the passenger seat this time. 

Apparently, killing someone does have a couple perks. 

“We’re going to go home, you can have some tea when we get there, and we can find something to watch, does that sound okay?” Elise asked from Specs’ usual seat in the back. He gave another little shrug and a nod. 

“That should be fine, yeah,” Tucker answered for him. This was one of those times when Specs was thankful that he had known the other man for as long as he had. 

The drive back to Elise’s house—it was now all three of theirs, really, but old habits die hard—was quiet. The radio stopped it from being completely silent and gave Specs something to focus on. Sometimes Tucker or Elise would say something to the other, breaking the quiet, but otherwise, no one spoke. 

It was almost uncomfortable. All three had gotten used to the conversation surrounding them, or, at the very least, some kind of noise, but in this moment the radio barely sufficed and it felt suffocating. 

It felt like it took way too long, but eventually, they made it home relatively okay and without getting hurt. 

Specs let Tucker grab his hand and lead him back inside the house once they arrived, still numb and feeling a certain level of apathy that was just enough to be concerning. 

He almost gave a derisive laugh as he thought about Adam again. As they had all gotten older, Adam had become indifferent to a lot of things, detached--and now Specs considered that maybe that had played a factor in what he was choosing to label The Split. 

He almost laughed again as he considered it.  _ Oh my God, this is so fucked up _ , he thought, and he shook his head. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Elise had him sitting on the couch when she asked. 

He nodded. “...yeah, I’m…” it felt strange to speak; he was aware of what he was doing but it was detached and he was almost thrown into another memory. “I’m okay,” he eventually answered. 

Elise and Tucker both nodded, Elise sitting next to him on the couch and rubbing his back while Tucker pulled up a chair and leaned forward. 

“Do you want me to go get you a book or something? I can find… Jekyll and Hyde is fairly short, right? And you like that one,” Tucker asked. 

Specs shrugged. “I’m okay,” he said again. He wasn’t sure that he was really up to saying much else, after everything. 

Tucker nodded and stood, going to Specs’ room to find the book he had offered to get, holding it up when he returned. He handed it to Specs, nodding when he saw that Specs already had a mug of hot tea. 

Specs put the book on the coffee table, having no intention to read it, and continued to drink his tea. 

_ This reminds me of that time in… _ he almost started. But he didn’t, still too shaken up to try to start a full conversation. Once he finished the tea, he stood up, a little shaky. He started to walk to the kitchen, which caused Tucker and Elise both to stand and accompany him, both still very concerned for him (and his well being). Once he put the cup in the sink he whirled around. 

“I’m fine, really,” 

“Steven… what you did had to be done, but it’s still… traumatising,” Elise gave a timid smile. “It’s okay if you aren’t,” 

“No, really. I’m absolutely wonderful. I mean, sure, the whole running for my life thing was a lot less than ideal and, overall, not how I wanted to spend any day, and the part where I thought that something could’ve happened to either of you wasn’t that much fun, but all in all, I think we can call this a job well done,” Now that he had started to speak, his words came tumbling out, almost dazing him. 

“Specs.” Tucker stopped him, putting his hands on the other’s shoulders. 

“Yeah?” 

“We were--” Tucker stopped. “Are you hungry?” 

“Not particularly. You know, today’s kind of taken away my appetite, I have no idea when it’ll--” 

“Steven, it’s been a long day. Do you want to go lay down?” Elise prompted, sensing his heightened nerves and possibly impending anxiety attack. Specs nodded. 

“Uh… yeah. Yeah,” he nodded again. Tucker stepped away from him, releasing him in the process of moving. 

“Okay. It’ll be okay, you had a good reason for what you did,” Elise gave his arm a gentle squeeze and walked with him to the doorway, watching as he retreated to his room and closed the door behind him. Then she turned to Tucker. 

“You said you hadn’t heard anything about most of his family?” 

“No. Which… we’ve known each other for years now, you’d think we would’ve ended up on that eventually, but… he never really talked that much about them, no,” 

Elise nodded. “If there’s any painful memories, he’ll want to keep those buried, most likely, wouldn’t bring them up,” 

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Because now we have very little to go off of, if we want to find any of them,” 

“You never even heard from his parents?” 

“Which set?” 

“The ones he was closest to,” 

“So the mom and the stepfather. Yeah, I heard about them some, but not… that much, again, he kind of… didn’t like to talk about any of that. Doesn’t like to talk about it much. I think he may have said something about a brother, though?” 

“That’s good! His brother might be able to help, even if it’s just a little, with trying to help him,” 

Tucker shook his head. “I wouldn’t bet on it. Specs said he hadn’t heard from his brother in years, last we talked about him,” 

Elise sighed and leaned against the counter. “So we’re on our own in trying to help him cope with murder,” 

“Yep, basically,” Tucker nodded. “Wait, actually, I think he said something about this uncle he used to be really close to?” 

“That might--” 

“Wait, fuck. I’m pretty sure he said that uncle was dead,” 

“Oh.” Elise pushed herself off of the counter and walked to the fridge, where she grabbed a yogurt. “I could try to contact him,” 

“That could be even more traumatising, even if the intentions are good,” Tucker shook his head. “I think this is just something we’ll all have to try to get through on our own, unfortunately. Maybe he’ll hit his head again and get a concussion or something and forget,” he said the last part jokingly, trying to smile. 

“ _ Tucker _ ,” thankfully, Elise caught the joke, and she smiled and knocked his arm with her shoulder. “We  _ cannot  _ plan for him to get a concussion,” 

“We wouldn’t be  _ planning  _ for it, per se,” 

“We still shouldn’t  _ hope  _ it happens,” 

“And we aren’t, we’re just… pondering the possibility of it happening, which is different,” 

“I’m pretty sure it would also hurt for him to get a concussion, depending on how it happened,” 

The two continued their conversation as they walked back to the living room, eventually letting it trail off as they watched a movie that was only partially paid attention to. 

And now we turn back to Specs, who had retreated to his room a while prior. 

Upon getting to his room, he had stood in the middle of it, still trying to register everything that had happened. Eventually, he had sat on his bed, almost giving up. 

He curled up, not bothering to change out of the clothes he was in, grabbing his phone and playing the soundtrack from Little Shop of Horrors in the hopes that it would help ground him. 

When he finally fell asleep, the music was still playing and he had finally managed to feel something. 

Specs was used to having nightmares. They were just facts of life; hell, they were expected with the occupation. 

But it was one of the worst he had had in a while. Not necessarily because of what had happened in it, but because it had been a while since the last time he had had a nightmare that came from a memory (or, in this case, a series of memories). 

He was restless and yet exhausted, a horrible mixture that caused a fitful sleep. Even so, when he got up the next morning and finally went to get some coffee, he felt much better than he had when he had gone to bed. He also felt almost relieved (and then guilty for feeling relieved) that both Tucker and Elise were still in their rooms. 

Specs made his coffee and sat at the counter with it, not even waiting for it to cool down before he started to drink it. His head felt significantly less like it was made of cotton and it was easier to process what was around him, he realised, as he turned the television on and found something to fill the silence. He flicked through the channels before stopping on one that was playing Sweeney Todd, deciding he might as well watch that one, at least until Elise or Tucker woke up. 

It didn’t take too terribly long for that to happen, seeing as they had a list of things they had to do that day. 

Tucker was up first, and Specs gave him a smile when he saw him. 

“You’re feeling better?” Tucker asked, getting himself some breakfast. 

“Yeah, my head’s less… cotton-y,” Specs nodded. 

“That’s good,” Tucker nodded, grabbing his bowl and sitting by Specs. “Sweeney Todd?” 

“It was what was on,” Specs shrugged, hardly trying to defend his choice. He didn’t have to, and he knew it. The two watched Sweeney sing about how he thought everyone deserved to die before Tucker turned to Specs. 

“Did you sleep alright?” He eventually asked. 

“Just some nightmares,” Specs wasn’t sure how much more to say. He didn’t particularly want to talk about what they had contained, didn’t want to open up the still too-raw wound of his uncle’s suicide, but… 

“If you aren’t careful I’ll get you a cat, or something,” 

“...what?” 

“Emotional support cat,” 

“Why a cat?” 

“I dunno. You seem like the kind of guy that would like a cat, and I think I’d rather have a cat given our job,” 

Specs nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair. But we don’t need a cat,” 

“What if I want one?” 

“You do know Elise has a dog, right? We don’t need another animal,” 

“That’s enough, boys,” Elise said from the doorway, smiling at both of them. “If you really want a cat, we can talk about it. Right now, though, we have to get ready,” 

They both knew she was right. 

“Fine. But I still stand by my opinion that we need a cat,” 

“Whatever.” Specs turned his attention back to the movie, waiting for Elise to say when they would be leaving. 


	4. Phantom Faces In The Windows, Phantom Shadows On The Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's a grief that can't be spoken,/there's a pain goes on and on/Empty chairs at empty tables,/Now my friends are dead and gone.../And I can hear them now/The very words that they have sung.../Phantom faces at the window,/Phantom shadows on the floor"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll admit, this chapter isn't as long as i originally planned, but. there's not too much that really happens, it's a little break to establish a couple things

Like most things usually do, that particular case that they had been on ended, and they moved on with their lives. 

Granted, a few things had changed, like, for example, Elise was somewhat in contact with her family again. 

Emphasis on the somewhat--schedules could be shitty, like that, and she and her brother still had a lot to work through. 

But they were trying to, which had to count for something, right? 

And Specs, he had started to think about that which he had been trying to push down and forget. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped; now, he had to fight to keep memories of his late uncle at bay, had to resist the urge to try to find the ones that he had done his best to forget up until that point. 

And for Tucker, he had gotten a touch more closed up, almost, as if there was something he was trying to hide. Which was… fine. He was allowed to keep things to himself, if he so chose. He didn’t owe it to Elise or Specs to tell them every single small detail about what happened to him. 

But that was beside the point. They had all, for the most part, moved on, electing to not bring up anything painful more often than they had to. They all knew that they were there to support each other, and that’s what mattered. 

Specs had been alone the first time it happened. Really, he had barely noticed it; it was a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, hardly enough to grab his attention. 

He hadn’t even looked up from his notebook. 

The next time… he was surprised he hadn’t done that thing where he faints and ends up scaring everyone, again. 

“Hey, Specs?” 

“Yeah?” He had set his notebook down, flipping it shut, and stood, going to the kitchen, where Tucker was standing on a ladder. 

“Can you hold this for me?” he gestured to the ladder. Specs had nodded, grabbing the bottom of it and holding it steady. Tucker finished messing with the lights and thanked him, Specs going back to the living room and grabbing his notebook before going back to his room. He threw the notebook on his bed and pulled on a sweater before going back out the hall, where… 

Where it almost hurt to look, the sight of his late uncle (although hazy, flickering in and out of view, a sad, small smile on his face) almost shocking him, and Specs was very proud of himself for not losing his shit. 

“...uncle La--” his question was cut off by the spectre shaking his head, a warbled voice interrupting him. 

“Not enough time. Don’t--” and then Larry was gone, and Specs hadn’t realised that he had started bracing himself against the wall until he fell against it, putting a hand to his throat to check his pulse. It was a habit he had gotten into doing sometimes, and he hadn’t yet quite broken it. Next, he wiped his eyes, shaking his head. 

“What the fuck…?” he spoke into the air, letting himself look at the spot he had seen the ghost of his uncle. After a moment’s hesitation, he continued, shivering as he passed where Larry had been standing. 

He walked to the couch, sitting on it and curling up, still trying to process what had happened. Tucker joined him not too long after, sitting in the living room chair near the couch and messing with one of his cameras. 

Elise walked through, carrying a box of stuff that she was trying to take down to the basement, and Specs looked up at her, an idea flitting through his mind. 

“Hey, Elise?” Specs asked, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Because he is not a very nonchalant person, and also because she was psychic, she saw right through it, but decided to humor him. 

“Hm?” 

“So… I shouldn’t be able to see a ghost, in any hypothetical situations, right?” 

“Well… usually, no, but there are some situations where you might, because of the concentration, or… I’m actually not sure how they let themselves be seen. But typically, no,” 

“Great, okay, new question. Am I high?” 

Elise stopped. “What?” 

“Am I high?” he repeated. Tucker actually fucking squinted at him, and he was beginning to feel rather ridiculous, but… that was the only other solution he really wanted to think about. 

“Specs, buddy, why would you… what the fuck?” 

“Did you…” Elise started. 

“No! I’m great. I was just wondering for a hypothetical situation--” 

“You aren’t very subtle,” Tucker interrupted. 

Specs looked down. “Yeah. Okay. Don’t worry about it, I’m pretty sure it was nothing, anyways,” 

“Well, we can--” Elise started, getting ready to try to offer some comfort. 

“No!” Specs interrupted her, before hesitating. “I… no. It’s okay, really, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I think I’m just tired,” 

Elise hesitated before nodding, continuing on her way. Specs and Tucker continued to sit in silence before Tucker looked at him. 

“What was all that about?” he eventually asked. 

“It’s nothing, it’s not important,” Specs answered with a shrug. 

“Well, it had to have--” Tucker was interrupted by his phone buzzing. He took it out of his pocket and checked it. “Sorry, uh… I really have to check this,” Tucker stood, staring at his phone screen as if it would shatter if he took his eyes off of it. He started walking to his room, beginning to type something. 

Guilt settled in the pit of Specs’ stomach, and he wasn’t sure why. 


	5. Jigsaw and Other Fun Stuff (I Guess)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is fairly short and may not flow the right way because of how long i've been writing it and the breaks between, but... it's really just to establish a couple things.   
> all that really matters is that now (cue Living On A Prayer) we're halfway there!   
> halfway to one of my favourite bits, that is

“...another victim of Jigsaw--” Elise flicked the television off, and Specs looked up at her, giving her a vaguely betrayed look. 

“Hey,” he eventually said, crossing his arms. Elise shook her head. 

“I really don’t think that’s something you need to worry yourself with,” she answered. Tucker nodded, crossing his arms. 

“I’m with Elise, bud,” He stood, ruffling Specs’ hair as he walked past, and walked to the kitchen. He returned with a quesadilla, taking his seat in the chair once more. 

“It’s just--” 

“No, there’s other things to worry about,” Elise interrupted, giving him a knowing look. 

“Yeah, you kind of have a problem with some stuff like this. We kind of want to see you, and we’d like it if you didn’t stop taking care of yourself while you try to solve this mystery with very little information,” Tucker threw in, starting his meal. Specs rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“I’m not going to try to solve it or--” he was interrupted by his phone ringing. Specs sighed and grabbed it out of his pocket, breath catching when he saw who was calling. “What the fuck…” he whispered to himself. Then, louder, “I’ll be right back, I have to take this.” 

“Is everything okay?” Elise was, rightfully, concerned, and Specs only nodded his answer. 

He stood and went to his room, finally answering the call. 

“Specs, hey,” he was… calm, yet at the same time, Specs could hear the anxiety he was trying to hide. He had known this man for many years before-- 

He didn’t want to think about that. 

“Donovan.” 

“So this  _ is  _ the right number!” Donovan’s voice now took on a triumphant tone, almost celebratory. 

“It is. How the hell--” 

“Language, Stevey, my friend,” 

“...how did you find this number?” 

“Well, see, I’d really like to say that I went through all this trouble, but really… it wasn’t that hard. You’re still on FaceBook, you know that, right?” 

“Haven’t been on in a while.” 

“So that’s why you haven’t accepted my friend request,” Specs could almost see Donovan’s lopsided smirk as he said the words. He shook his head. 

“That, among other things, yeah, I guess,” 

“But really, it wasn’t that hard from there,” 

“Ah. Good for you. Now, if you excuse me--” 

“Alright, alright, okay. I understand you wanted to put most of this behind you and, like, not worry about any of this,” Donovan started, now completely serious. Specs could almost see him running his hand through his hair and adjusting his collar before going to fidget with one of his rings. “But this is actually… I dunno.” 

“What’s going on?” Specs sighed, pulling the chair out of his desk and sitting in it. 

“Y’know that… well, I’m not… really sure what it is, but… Adam’s gone,” 

“Yeah, and? Adam was always good at that.” 

“Okay, I know you two--” 

“You don’t know shit, alright? So just drop it.” 

“Specs…” Donovan’s voice was warning. 

“And you, you’re not even--” 

“Steven.” Donovan interrupted, done with him. Specs sighed again, going quiet. 

“Yes?” 

“This is important, so shut the fuck up and get your head out of your ass for five seconds, alright? I’ve been trying to keep up with all of you because I fucking care about y’all, despite what you may want to think. David went missing for a bit there, you know. Or maybe you wouldn’t, seeing as none of you have had shit to do with each other since, what… we were teenagers?” 

“College. We were all still friends in college.” Specs whispered, voice hoarse. 

“Doesn’t matter. It’s been a bit. David went missing, he got kidnapped by that Jigsaw bastard and…” Donovan couldn’t continue the sentence. He took a deep breath. “And I think, I’m not completely sure, but…” 

“You think Adam might’ve been taken, too?” 

“Yeah. If he did…” 

Specs stopped and thought for a moment. “You said Jigsaw, right?” 

“That’s the bitch, yeah,” 

“Well, fuck,” 

“Yeah. Fuck. That’s about right.” Donovan sighed. “If I hear anything more, I’ll send a text or call or something. Try to stay in touch?” 

“Yeah. Uh…” Specs cleared his throat. “Thanks. For telling me.” 

“I thought you’d want to know. Bye, Specs,” 

“Yeah, bye, Donovan,” with that, Donovan hung up on him. Specs sighed and put his head in his hands, trying to process what his childhood friend had said. 

“Specs!” Tucker shouted. “C’mon, it’s almost time to go!” 

Specs sighed again, still processing the idea of his brother possibly being murdered. 

Just your average Monday, then, right? 

“Specs!” Tucker shouted again. “You good? We gotta go!” 

He stood, considering the idea of shouting back but deciding against it. The idea of speaking felt as if it would be difficult. He made his way to his friend, nodding at his questioning look. 

“You good?” Tucker asked, eyes searching Specs’ face. Specs looked away, not giving an answer. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” Specs shouldered his bag and pushed his way out the door, not looking at Elise or Tucker as he went to the van. Tucker looked at Elise, who shrugged, looking after Specs with concern. 

“Do you think he’s…” Tucker let himself trail off. Elise shrugged again. 

“He’s definitely been better,” 

“Do you think he’s upset that you wouldn’t let him watch the Jigsaw thing?” 

Elise frowned at the suggestion. “I hope not,” 

Tucker shrugged. “I’m worried about him,”

“Come on, Tucker! We gotta go if we wanna make it back in time to play D&D!” Specs shouted, leaning against the van. Tucker looked back at Elise helplessly, and she nodded. 

“It’ll be okay, we can sort this out,” she gently pushed him in the direction of the vehicle, and he hesitated before following his friend. 

Tucker drove, Specs piling into the back with the equipment, notebook in his lap as he wrote something. 

“What’cha working on?” Tucker looked back at him in the mirror. Specs shrugged. 

“Doesn’t matter,” 

Tucker shrugged and let him have this one, seeming to sense the other man’s upset and not wanting to push him farther. Specs returned to his notebook until they arrived at the house. 

For the sake of not getting to be too terribly long, we shan’t go into much detail with the setup of the equipment. It was, naturally, a real case, in which a family was being haunted by a ghost of some sort. 

And, because of this fact, they called Elise. 

Everything had been running smoothly, in the beginning. 

Now, see, foreshadowing is a technique writer’s use to show that something is going to happen, especially if that thing is going to be of importance. 

And that’s a technique we’re going to abuse now. 

The reader will have probably found it difficult to forget that fainting has been something that has been mentioned before, and in this case, we aren’t speaking of it like “Ye Olde 19th Century Writer” might would. 

Specs was always good at being a walking ball of anxiety. Unfortunately, that came with physical consequences, such as fainting on the job in the middle of a conversation when Elise and Tucker had their back turned.

“Shit!” Tucker turned around quickly, running forward and sliding in an attempt to prevent his friend from hitting his head. He sighed as he cradled Specs’ head in his lap, nudging him and trying to bring him back into consciousness. 

“Steven? Are you alright?” Elise was asking as his eyes fluttered open, and the two breathed a sigh of relief when he began to speak almost immediately. 

“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine, I’m alright,” he waved their hands away not too long after, and pushed himself up off of Tucker. 

“I think we should probably go home, we can all rest for a little while and then come back later, does that sound alright?” Elise prompted once Specs had sat up on his own, Tucker still sitting by him, watching and offering a side to lean on. It was an unspoken agreement to not bring up this moment of weakness. 

The two nodded. “Yeah, that… might be a good idea.” Specs agreed. 

And so they returned home. 

It wasn’t that long of a drive, and Specs’ body felt almost like lead as he thought about just what had happened that day. 

The trio found themselves in the living room, Specs stretched out on the couch with his feet on Tucker’s legs, Elise in the chair reading something. 

And Specs was watching some show--Tucker wasn’t paying complete attention, but there was a man in a suit and a long jacket who lit up like a glowstick and something about a severed hand, and a redhead named Donna and a blonde named Rose, and Specs seemed to like it and seemed to be the most relaxed he had been all day, so he was fine with half-paying attention to the show with the little background knowledge he had. 

They were about halfway through when Tucker felt his phone vibrate. 

At first, he chose to ignore it, not thinking it was too important. 

The third time it rang, he sighed and moved Specs’ legs from where they were on his lap and stood, walking outside so as to not disturb his companions. 

“What do you want?” he asked when he finally answered it. 

“Tucker? ‘s that… uh. I think I might’ve… gotten into some trouble,” the voice wasn’t quite breathless but he could hear the barely-hidden anxiety in it. 

“ _ Ray _ ?” 


End file.
